Perfect Imperfection
by the-snitch-is-loose
Summary: Harry gets a little help preparing for his wedding from Ron and Molly, and Ginny doesn't necessarily approve of their "improvements" on her husband-to-be.


The sunny June morning that ended up beginning one of the best days of Harry's life rushed by him in a whirlwind of sights and sounds.

Everything blurred together, like watercolor paints do when an inexperienced child picks up a paintbrush for the first time. When he looked back on this day (as he often would), Harry would remember only snippets of what had happened, loose threads that would've woven a tapestry if he could have mentally put it all together. The glimmer of the small jewel on Ron's cravat. The sound of Teddy's laughter as Molly chased him around the garden, trying to fit a bow-tie on him. The constant smell of Ginny's favorite flowers, spicy and sweet at the same time, just like his wife-to-be.

It was only when someone nearby yelled his name that Harry snapped out of his reverie. "Harry!" Hermione kept repeating crossly, her voice getting louder and louder.

"Sorry, what?"

"Why on earth haven't you gotten your dress robes on yet?!" she hissed, poking her head around the half-closed door to Ginny's room and yelling at him down the stairs. "The ceremony starts in twenty minutes, for Merlin's sake!"

"Right . . . sorry. Yeah."

"Well, get upstairs!" she said urgently. "Ron's waiting for you!" Hermione slammed Ginny's door as she pulled her head back inside. Harry grinned to himself; he knew he shouldn't have let Hermione plan their wedding. She stressed too much. Then again, she did have a point. Twenty minutes wasn't a lot of time.

The slightly sick feeling Harry had had festering in his stomach all day seemed to worsen at the thought. Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes he'd be a married man.

When he entered Ron's room, he was surprised to be hailed by what seemed like half the Weasley family. Apparently Hermione had kicked everyone out of Ginny's room except for Luna and Molly, so they all migrated to see the groom instead of the bride. A great cheer went up when he opened the door, and suddenly he was surrounded by redheads, all hugging him and shaking his hand already.

"OY!" yelled a familiar voice in the back of the room. "Let me through, you idiots. He needs to get ready. Are you deaf? I said MOVE! I'm his best man, for Merlin's sake!"

The crowd parted, and Harry was relieved to see the tall gangly figure of his best friend walking towards him. "Where have you been, you little git? I've been looking for you for half an hour!"

"I was just—Teddy was—"

"Yeah, well, that doesn't matter now, anyway. Here are your dress robes—" Ron elbowed a few more people out of the way and handed Harry his robes. "Go change in Charlie's room while I sort this lot out, and I'll be in there soon!" More than willing to leave the current hubbub far behind him, Harry nodded and headed down the hall towards Charlie's old room to change.

The peace and quiet of solitude did have its downsides, however. With only silence and the distant yells of Ron "sorting out" the crowd upstairs to fill his ears, Harry found it a lot easier to dwell on how nervous he was. What if he didn't provide Ginny with everything she needed? What if his past started haunting him again and she didn't feel like dealing with it? What if she realized that he was an idiot and she was too good for him? These thoughts and many like them chased each other around Harry's mind, taunting him, cruelly prodding at the nervous knot in his stomach.

He was just pulling his dress robes over his head when the door burst open.

"Mrs. Weasley!" he gasped, struggling to cover himself up. She, however, seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that she'd just walked in on him in the middle of dressing, and marched to Charlie's dresser without so much as a twitch of discomfort.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Harry call me Molly," she said, waving a hand at him dismissively. "Put those dress robes on, boy! I haven't got all day."

"W-what?"

"Mum's here to spruce you up a bit," said Ron, entering the room behind his mother. Though a little more comfortable with Ron seeing him partially undressed than Molly, Harry was still unhappy about the nonchalance that both Weasleys were showing. He could only hope that the rest of the crowd in Ron's room hadn't followed.

"Erm, right," Harry quickly pulled his robes over his head and started fumbling with his bow-tie.

"Let me do that, dear," Molly said, rushing over to him and unburdening his hands. "Ron, get his boutonniere, will you?"

"Where is it?"

"Don't you see it there on the dresser, Ronald?" Mrs. Weasley snapped. Harry choked as she gave his bow-tie a particularly violent tug. "Sorry dear. I don't know _what_ you were thinking, starting to get dressed so late! Are you trying to give poor Hermione a heart attack?"

"I didn't mean to, Mrs. Weasley, but—"

"How many times do I have to say it? _Call me Molly_."

Ron was busy attaching a flower to the buttonhole on Harry's lapel, and Harry looked down at it for something to do while Molly rushed out of the room again. "Lilies?" he said questioningly, noticing what type of flower it was for the first time.

"I guess you really have been out of the loop on the wedding plans, haven't you?" said Ron with a grin. "Yeah, the flowers that Ginny picked were lilies and honeysuckle."

"Really? But I thought this was meant to be_ her_ day?"

"What? Didn't I just say those were the flowers she picked?"

"Yeah, but lilies are like—you know, my Mum, and honeysuckle is the smell that I—"

"That you what?"

Harry's face flushed red. "Never you mind."

Ron stared at him suspiciously, but at that moment Molly re-entered the room, clutching a potion bottle. "Here we are, dear! The key to making you look presentable."

Harry looked at himself in the mirror and couldn't help but think he already looked pretty damn presentable. His robes were ironed, shirt starched and crisp, face clean-shaven, shoes polished. He straightened his glasses self-consciously and tried to fathom what Molly could possibly want to do to make him even more presentable. His fears heightened when she told him to have a seat in Charlie's desk chair.

"What are you doing?"

"We have simply _got_ to do something about your hair, dear," said Molly, opening the potion bottle with her wand. "Every other day I don't care what it looks like, it can stick up in every direction all it wants. But today I am determined to make it stay down. So be patient."

Harry sputtered, "But—Mrs. Weasley, it's _always_ like that, no matter what I—"

"Oh, Harry," Molly said knowingly. "You have so much to learn! If anyone can make your hair lie flat, it's me."

"In the summer before fifth year, though—right before my hearing—"

"Yes, well," Molly sniffed as though condemning her former self as inferior. "I wasn't really trying for your hearing, dear. This is different. This is your _wedding_."

"Just shut up and sit still, mate," Ron advised, patting his best friend on the shoulder._ Easy for you to say,_ Harry thought to himself darkly. _Your hair isn't at her mercy._

Fifteen minutes later they still had nothing to show for their efforts. Half the bottle of potion had been used already and Molly was still dumping more onto the top of his head, absolutely determined to make his hair do what she wanted, at any cost.

"I just don't understand it!" Molly said desperately, rubbing the potion into his scalp. "This potion never fails! But don't worry, Harry, I promised to make it lie flat and I will fulfill that promise."

"Mum, we've got five minutes until the ceremony! Maybe we should just—"

"Be quiet and let me work, Ronald." Molly snapped, upturning the entire contents of the potion bottle onto Harry's head.

"If he's late, Mum, Ginny's going to—"

"I am her mother, she wouldn't dare." said Molly. When she realized that the potion still wasn't working, she sighed in frustration and threw her hands up. She tried a few spells. She tried a few charms. Still, nothing worked. After a minute of thinking, however, she had an idea. "Aha!" she exclaimed, making Harry and Ron jump. Running out of the room, she returned within seconds with another potion bottle in her hands.

"MUM! Is that Mrs. Skower's—?!"

"Do be quiet, Ronald. I said I'd make his hair lie flat, and I will!"

Harry looked at his best friend in alarm, unsure of what exactly was going on his head next. "You'll make him sick!" Ron groaned, covering his eyes.

"Mum, that stuff is meant for cleaning cauldrons!"

Panicking a little, Harry gripped the edges of his chair and shut his eyes tight, but didn't dare profess his discomfort. Mrs. Weasley knew best, and if this was the way to make him look his best for Ginny, then so be it.

"Don't get any on his dress robes!"

"Calm down, boy! Look, it's working !"

"Are you sure that's not just his hair melding to his skull?"

"Oh, shut up Ron, you're not helping anything. Harry, dear? You can open your eyes, you know."

Still terrified, Harry obliged. He was utterly shocked when he uncovered his eyes to see that his hair was indeed lying flat. It looked weird, after all those years of it sticking up all over the place, to see it so neat. Molly combed it, used a quick Drying spell, and finally proclaimed him presentable. Not just presentable, but—

"Dear, you look so handsome!" Molly wailed, throwing herself onto him and giving him a huge hug.

Harry hugged her back and said, "Thanks, Molly."

Even Ron looked impressed. "You do look pretty damn good."

* * *

Harry stood beside Ron at the altar a few minutes later, happiness threatening to overwhelm him. The Burrow's garden had been left in its overgrown state, with its weeds and gnomes and Wellington boots. The fifty or so close friends who were lucky enough to score an invitation to what the press was calling "the wedding of the century" were seated before him in rows of white chairs. The aisle, scattered with flower petals and confetti shaped like tiny golden snitches, seemed to stretch endlessly from one end of the open-walled tent to the other. Occasionally one of the gnomes would meander aimlessly across the aisle, which prompted a squeal of delight from little Victoire, who tried to escape her mother's arms to chase it.

At the back of the tent, Hagrid was already crying into a massive handkerchief while being patted reassuringly on the back by Minerva McGonagall, who was also in tears. A little further along, Dean and Seamus were trying not to laugh too hard at Luna, who was standing beside Hermione near the altar (as one of Ginny's bridesmaids) swatting Nargles away from the enormous sunflower perched in her hair. Meanwhile, George and Angelina were having a heated debate about Quidditch in the third row. Andromeda Tonks was still trying to instruct Teddy on how to hold the rings on the cushion in his hand. On one side of Harry, Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting patiently for the bride to appear so he could begin the ceremony. On his other side, Ron and Neville were beaming at him, and across from him so was Hermione, tears glittering in her eyes.

Looking around at all the people around him, the people who he loved, Harry took a moment to wonder what his wedding would be like if his parents were sitting in the front row along with Molly and Arthur. Would they cry too? Would Sirius? Or Remus or Tonks or Dumbledore? But these thoughts were wiped instantly from his mind as Ginny glided down the aisle towards him.

"Pretty" was such a flimsy word. "Beautiful" didn't nearly describe her. There was nothing else for it: She was striking. Gorgeous. Exquisite. Harry felt like he'd been hit from behind with a Stunning spell, but his heart swelled with happiness as he looked at her. Ginny's hair was loose, and it flowed behind her like wildfire as she walked, each golden and scarlet strand catching the sunlight magnificently. She seemed to be glowing, almost like there was a tiny sun within her that was releasing light through every pore in her skin. Her smile was contagious, her eyes ablaze with joy, the bounce in her step effortless. Harry was grinning at her like an idiot, but it didn't matter, because in that moment there was no one else but the two of them.

Ginny kissed her father on the cheek before he sat down, and she approached the altar alone, taking Harry's hand and giving it a squeeze. Smiling, Kingsley began the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness . . ."

"You're beautiful," Harry whispered to her.

"You say that every day," she replied, though she smiled.

"That's because you're always beautiful, it's just that today you can't deny it."

She turned to look at him, giving him that hard blazing look he was now so familiar with. "What the hell did you do to your hair?"

"What?" Harry whispered blankly; that's not what he'd been expecting to hear. "Oh—erm, your Mum—"

"It looks terrible. Here—" She reached up and ruffled his hair so that it returned to its usual messy style. Behind them, a few people gasped, including Mrs. Weasley. "Much better," said Ginny, facing the front again.

Harry grinned. "Hurry up, Kingsley," he said aloud. "I want to kiss the bride already."

_A/N: What did you think? Leave a review, it only takes a few seconds and an opinion! I'll have another story up soon, I promise; another one-shot (the last one before my big, bad, 50,000+ word story), but this one's about the Dursleys. (oooh ahh!) Thanks for reading! xoxo_


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